


fall (for me).

by starsandskies



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Fallen!Castiel, Human!Castiel - Freeform, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Season 9, fluff towards the end, spoilers for 8x23
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-07-27
Updated: 2013-07-27
Packaged: 2017-12-21 11:33:39
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,186
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/899805
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/starsandskies/pseuds/starsandskies
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Castiel has fallen from grace and Dean helps him adjust to being human.</p>
            </blockquote>





	fall (for me).

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [this post](https://archiveofourown.org/external_works/25256) by picturesquegoddess. 



> how the beginning of season nine should go - or something along these lines.

“Castiel!” Dean looked down at Sam and then up to the sky, strobes of fire crashing down to earth with force, dust and debris being swept up in the air.

“Sammy, it's alright. We'll get you out of here, I promise. Castiel!” He called again, waiting for something, anything.

“He's gone, Dean! The angels are falling, he can't hear you,” Sam spoke, breathing heavily.

Panic flashed in Dean's eyes as his heart lurched once, twice, three times before he picked his brother up as best he could manage, helping him into the Impala as he tried not to pay attention to the chaos around him.

But he had to find Castiel. He couldn't abandon him, not when the man was alone, lost and... _human._

“Sam, I'm going to find Cas, alright? I don't know where he is but I have to find him,” Dean said firmly (as if Sam was ever going to object), the engine running and his foot hitting the gas.

Both brothers tried to ignore the angels hitting the ground with loud thumps, tried to act as if they weren't real and this wasn't happening right now. All Dean could think of was Sam in the backseat, quiet whimpers emanating from his mouth. He drove the Impala around, seeing other fallen angels but not Castiel. There was no sign of his dirty trench coat anywhere.

Dean drove out to the main road and slammed his hands against the steering wheel, startling Sam, as fear gnawed him. If he didn't find Castiel, that would be it. He'd have failed him and let him down even after all the times the angel had been there for Dean Winchester: the man he _rebelled_ for.

“Sam, talk to me, come on. You're okay,” the hunter reached out towards the back seat and gently pat his brother's face, making him look up, all dopey and bloodied.

“Where's Cas?” Sam drew out slowly, his words merging into one.

“I don't know, man. I can't find him,” the older brother glanced at Sam who was losing consciousness fast, “w-we need to take you home, Sammy.”

Dean drove towards the bunker and gripped the wheel tight, his eyes watering and his bottom lip quivering as he left a part of him somewhere amongst the angels.

*

“How is he?”

“Well, it's been a few hours but he should be okay. He's asleep now and I don't think he'll be up any time soon,” Kevin whispered to Dean, their eyes on Sam who was fast asleep.

“Is he going to be fine if I go look for Cas? I can't leave him there...” Dean trailed off, his eyes on the floor.

“Yeah, go and look. I'll stay here and, er, do my best,” Kevin chuckled.

“Thanks, man,” the hunter gave his brother a fleeting look before taking the keys out of his pocket and starting the Impala, determined to find Castiel.

He didn’t even know where to look; he just drove around sort of aimlessly, the sky clear now which meant that all the angels had fallen. _Cas_ had fallen and the thought terrified Dean as he drove faster, finding somewhere to park so he could search on foot. He stepped out of the car quickly and began walking west towards to the trees, the wooded area dark and damp. He wrinkled his nose as he walked forwards, deeper into the forest as he called out Castiel’s name.

“Cas! Cas, are you here?  Come on, man..,” he trailed off, swallowing hard as he looked up, seeing nothing but branches and leaves, darkened by the night. He wasn’t leaving without the angel, he was going to find him and bring him home because he was _family_.

Castiel was needed not just for his angel powers but for friendship and support. He had an atmosphere that surrounded him; calm, collected and warm. He brought a smile to Dean’s face and really, that was all that mattered. The hunter paused, spotted a figure on the ground in the distance (he could barely make out what it was), and ran towards it, hoping it was Castiel. His eyes widened as he saw the trench coated man curled up on the ground, sobbing hard, his body shaking.

“Oh, Cas..,” Dean muttered, pulling the angel towards him and wrapping his arms around him as tightly as he could.

“Dean,” he whimpered, “what am I supposed to do?”

“Cas, I’ve got you. I _got_ you,” the hunter managed to say brokenly; picking Castiel up gently with an arm around his waist, steadying him because he knew his legs would give out.

He took him to the Impala (and Castiel winced with every step he took which made Dean grit his teeth in frustration that he couldn’t do anything) and just as he was about to lay him down in the backseat like he’d done for his brother, he took a sharp intake of breath. Two crescent-shaped blood spots had seeped out onto Cas’ trench coat and Dean shook his head slowly as he came to realise that his wings were gone. _His wings were gone._

Dean wasn’t sure if Castiel knew (he must do, he was bleeding and kept flinching) but he didn’t want to make things worse so he just put him into the car with as much care as he could muster and drove back to the bunker, his eyes no longer watering and his lips no longer quivering because he’d found that bit of hope again. Sure, it was tarnished and bruised and fragile but it was _his_.

Castiel was going home.

*

“Oh my god, is he okay?” Kevin rushed over and stared at Castiel who had his eyes closed and his head down. Dean put the angel down onto the sofa and turned to face Kevin, shaking his head and sighing.

“He hasn’t said a lot to me, I’m going to try and talk to him. Um, do you mind if you and Sam just leave us for a while? I don’t want him to feel overwhelmed or whatever,” Dean spoke casually, trying to feign nonchalance.

“That’s fine, man. Sam’s still asleep anyway.”

“Okay, thanks.”

Dean sat opposite Castiel and waited for him to acknowledge him but that never happened. Cas didn’t say anything, he didn’t make any noises that indicated he was breathing aside from the small, quiet whimpers and the tears falling down his face. He’d never cried so much before. Dean had never seen Castiel like this and he knew that this approach wasn’t working. Instead, he shuffled closer to the broken man and placed a gentle hand on his shoulder.

“Cas, talk to me,” the hunter willed, swallowing the lump in his throat as he restrained himself from engulfing the angel in a tight hug.

Castiel said nothing. He just hung his head and made more sounds of anguish, conflicted with himself and what he was feeling. Dean cupped Cas’ cheek and turned it so their eyes met, green on blue and blue on green. His melancholy eyes were glistening with unshed tears, his face was streaky and his lips were dry. But that didn’t stop Dean from thinking that he was still so beautiful as the first time they’d met, if not more so.

“I need you to talk to me, tell me what you want,” Dean spoke softly, his voice catching.

“I-I don’t know. I feel...bad. I feel this crippling _fear_ ,” Castiel muttered, looking down at his hands like they weren’t his own.

“What are you scared of?”

“Everything.”

“Cas..,” Dean took him in his arms and comforted him, his hand fisted in his hair as he kissed the side of his head lightly, not applying pressure to his back. “I think we should get you cleaned up, do you want that?”

Castiel nodded weakly, allowing himself to be lifted up and taken to the bathroom. Dean peeled the bloodied trench coat off him and loosened his tie before running the bath, his eyes never leaving Cas.

He felt so much sorrow for the angel, so much heartbreak to see him go through this. He couldn’t even imagine what was going through Castiel’s head at this point and frankly, he wasn’t even sure he wanted to know. He unbuttoned his friend’s white shirt; his fingertips brushing down Castiel’s stomach gingerly, his breathing hitching a little.

_Don’t do this, don’t do this, don’t do this._

“Do you want me to stay?” Dean asked willingly, scratching the back of his head awkwardly. Cas still had his pants and his shoes on because the hunter didn’t know if he should take them off.

“I don’t know what to...how to... _please_ ,” Castiel stressed, worrying on his bottom lip.

“Okay, it’s alright. I’m here, Cas. Just calm down, it’s going to be fine.”

“How is it going to be fine, Dean? I’ve lost everything!” the fallen angel shouted, taking Dean aback, who widened his eyes and looked at Castiel with pity. _So much pity._

Dean managed to stay silent as he took hold of Castiel’s hand and put him in the bath (after coercing him to take his bottoms off as Dean turned around), a hiss coming from his mouth as his skin hit the hot water.

“I’ll get rid of the, um..,” Dean trailed off as he grabbed a small towel and kneeled down against the bathtub, wetting it and bringing it up to Cas’ back.

Looking at it close up made his stomach lurch as he dabbed at the dry blood ever so gently, minding the wounds where his wings had been ripped out. It looked red and raw and worse than any injury he’d ever got on the job. Castiel grimaced a little and Dean apologised quickly, his hands falling to Cas’ lower back. The wounds had stopped bleeding so the hunter left them while he washed Castiel’s hair, his fingers raking through the dark brown locks as he massaged his head.

“I think we’re done, buddy,” Dean said, managing a smile for Cas as he held out a towel and wrapped it around Castiel.

“Thank you,” Cas spoke quietly, his voice calmer than before.

“Don’t mention it.”

The hunter walked to his bedroom with an almost-naked Castiel in tow (who was now hovering near the doorway, still shocked at everything that had happened) and pulled out a pair of jeans and a plaid shirt, putting them on the bed.

“But these are _your_ clothes, Dean,” Cas said warily, gnawing on his lower lip. The hunter's gaze fell on his mouth and he subconcsciously licked his lips.

_No, don't think about it. He's vulnerable, he's tired...he's human._

“Yeah, I know, Cas. But your clothes aren't exactly clean right now so this is the only option. Now come here, your dripping all over my floor.”

Castiel walked tentatively towards Dean who was now gesturing for him to come and stand in front of him. He allowed the man to keep his dignity by going to find another towel to dry his hair. When Dean returned, Castiel had not moved an inch and stood rooted to the spot.

Dean dried Cas' hair gently before running the towel down his back, his hands shaking a little. He really couldn't hurt him. He caught all the drips and wet patches until his back was fully dry, the raw wounds looking oddly beautiful in contrast to his pale skin.

Castiel stood there still as he felt a human emotion he wasn't familiar with. It was gratitude or love or _something_ along those lines but he didn't know because he was hardly an expert.

He felt Dean's fingertips trail around his cuts, making their way down his lower back smoothly, causing Castiel's breathing to hitch.

“Cas, I'm so sorry,” Dean began, his hands lingering on Cas' hips for longer than necessary.

“It hasn't sunk in yet.”

Castiel felt Dean's lips brush against his skin, his mouth burning kisses around each wound, branding him, claiming him. They were fleeting and didn't last long but they seared Cas' skin. Dean pulled him closer and mumbled, his eyes closed and his hand on Cas' shoulder, “I need to make sure your back doesn’t get infected.”

“Will it hurt?”

“Yeah,” Dean said, his voice barely above a whisper.

“Okay,” Castiel acquiesced, swallowing the lump in his throat. He was absolutely certain that it couldn’t hurt more than the pain of knowing his grace had been taken from him.

“Wait here.” Dean went to get some whiskey and the makeshift first aid kit they kept under the sink (both brothers were really getting into the domestic way of living) before staring down at the bottle of alcohol and shaking his head.

_The poor bastard._

Dean didn’t think that Castiel knew what he had let himself in for because he’d done this, cleaning himself up with nothing but a bottle of whiskey and his leather belt to bite down on on those nights were they’d fought tooth and nail just to survive.

“This is really going to hurt,” he said, walking over to Castiel who still had a towel draped around his waist. He was still silent too but Dean expected that, the man had had the biggest shock of his life. He was allowed to clam up and not talk.

He rummaged in the survival kit and frowned, swearing that he’d seen some cotton or something in it. He hesitated before grabbing one of his t-shirts and ripping it down the middle before tearing it again to make a sizeable piece of cloth that would be able to do the job.

“How about you put some clothes on first, eh?” Dean suggested casually, not wanting to seem too persistent.

“I don't _have_ any clothes.”

The hunter pushed the jeans and flannel towards Castiel who widened his eyes, finally understanding what the gesture meant.

“Your clothes?”

“Yes, Cas,” Dean smiled softly as he turned around, “don't put the shirt on yet though.”

When Castiel was finished, he tapped Dean on the shoulder who turned around and blinked twice before raking his eyes down his friend’s torso. He already overstepped the line when he was drying him, he didn’t need this too. He swallowed hard and cleared his throat, looking Castiel in the eye.

“We’re gonna have to do this in the bathroom, Cas...”

Without a word, the fallen angel followed the hunter who doused the cloth in whiskey and turned to look at him.

“Grab hold of the sink,” Dean advised, making a face.

“Why?” Castiel spoke slowly, doing as he was told.

“'Cause this is going to sting,” the hunter lightly pressed his whiskey-soaked shirt against Cas' back who let out a strangled cry upon impact and his hands gripped the sides of the sink, his knuckles turning white.

Dean repeated this several times over the fallen angel's lacerations and could almost feel the pain himself. Castiel let out another cry as alcohol met injury, wound meeting whiskey, his breathing heavy as he clenched his fingers around the edge of the porcelain sink.

“Dean..,” he panted, feeling damaged and useless.

“I know, buddy,” the hunter dabbed at the bottom of where Castiel's wings used to be and elicited anguish from his mouth as his face contorted with pain.

“It's alright, Cas. It's all done,” Dean couldn't help but press a light kiss to the crook of the fallen angel's neck who didn't seem to notice it as he was recovering from all that pain.

Dean bandaged him up and Castiel put on the shirt he had been given, looking _different_. Very different. The hunter stared at him, widening his eyes and shifting a little as Castiel just stood there, completely oblivious.

“Are you hungry?” the hunter questioned, moving forwards to place a hand on Castiel’s arm who flinches away at the contact.

“I’m tired. Can I...can I go to sleep?” Castiel asked tentatively, his voice no higher than a whisper.

“I think you should eat something,” Dean insisted, searching Cas’ face for something other than betrayal.

“I’m not hungry, Dean. I’m just so tired.”

“Okay, buddy. Let’s get you to bed then.”

*

_Feathers floating to the floor weightlessly._

_Tips stained red with blood._

_Love gone and life given._

_Family ties severed._

_Home gone._

_Grace gone._

_Everything_ gone.

_“This won’t hurt at all.”_

_“You don’t deserve to be an angel.”_

_“You chose him, the human.”_

_“You are_ weak, _Castiel!”_

Castiel woke up with a start, his whole body drenched in sweat and his hair plastered to his forehead. He tried to regain control over his breathing but it kept coming out of his mouth in short and shallow breaths.

He didn’t want to close his eyes just in case he saw those things again, just in case he saw his grace being taken away or the pain he felt or the blood. All that blood from his wings being torn out and ripped apart, black feathers being plucked out one by one. He shivered and took a deep breath before he thought of Dean. He was probably asleep now and Castiel didn’t want to bother him but he’d watched the hunter sleep before and he sometimes writhed in his sleep and muttered intangible words that made no sense (no matter how hard Castiel tried to understand) to him.

He stood up, pillow in hand, and padded along the corridor to Dean’s room and knocked on the door softly.

There was no answer.

He tried twice more and frowned when the hunter didn’t open the door. His shoulders slumped as he turned around and hung his head, beginning to walk back to his room.

“Cas?” Dean yawned, making the fallen angel turn around with a slight smile on his face.

Well, how could he not smile when Dean walked out looking like that? His hair was dishevelled and his eyes were drooping, his mouth slack and his lips pink and glistening from running his tongue over them.

“Dean, I –”

“Can’t sleep?” the hunter asked, yawning again. His arm rested on the doorframe and Castiel’s gaze fell to Dean’s naked torso before going back up to the anti-possession symbol that he had on his chest.

“No, I had a bad dream,” Castiel spoke slowly, feeling ashamed as he let his head hang low.

“A nightmare’s nothing to be embarrassed of, Cas. We all have them,” Dean comforted, feeling the sleep fall from his eyes.

“No, I know,” the fallen angel swallowed hard as he looked up at the hunter and blue met green once again.

“Did you want something?” Dean questioned, folding his arms against his chest.

Castiel sighed, “no.”

He turned to go, his eyes stinging, wondering why he even stupidly thought that Dean would stay up with him. He should know by now that the hunter needed his four hours and he had no place to interrupt his routine because at the end of the day, who was Castiel?

He just let the Winchesters down and then just expected them to be there for him but he had no right to act as if –

“Cas?” the fallen angel turned around and couldn’t help but look at him expectantly, “come here.”

Dean shut the door to his room and turned on the light, gazing at Castiel who was standing in front of him, waiting. The hunter walked to his bed and got in, pulling back the sheets and patting the space next to him.

Castiel looked up nervously at a sleepy Dean who smiled lazily. The fallen angel got into bed with the hunter and sighed, making himself comfortable.

“Do you want to talk about it?” the hunter asked, looking up at the ceiling.

“I fell.” Castiel turned to look at him, “again.”

Dean stayed silent, shuffling a little closer to Cas, turning on his side so he faced him.

“There was a lot of blood, Dean. Can I ask you a question?”

“Shoot,” Dean said, looking at the fallen angel pointedly.

“Do you think I deserved to fall?”

Dean was taken aback. He sat up and stared at Castiel whose eyes were dispirited, a dejected expression on his face, the corners of his mouth turned down.

“Oh Cas, no. But I can’t do anything about it. Honestly, if I could give you back your grace I would but it’s not my place. I hate seeing you like this and it’s not right but you know we’ve got you, me and Sam, we’re here for you. _I’m_ here,” Dean said quietly, looking everywhere but in Castiel’s eyes.

“Thank you, Dean,” Cas yawned.

“You tired?” the fallen angel nodded and Dean smiled, watching the man beside him slowly relax, his body sagging with sleep.

“Sleeping is strange,” Castiel commented, his eyes drooping.

“’Night, Cas. I’ll see you in the morning.”

Dean watched Castiel sleep for a few moments, his mouth set in a line and his arms and legs drawn in on his torso. A ghost of a smile passed his lips as he closed his eyes, wishing that things could just go back to normal.

*

Both men woke up at about roughly the same time. They found themselves entangled with each other, Dean’s arms around Castiel and the fallen angel’s head on his chest. In his sleep, Dean must have pulled him closer and cuddled him because that was how it looked.

“Sorry, Cas,” Dean muttered, running a hand through his hair. Castiel didn’t say anything which troubled the hunter but he didn’t make matters worse by pestering him.

Throughout the day, Castiel didn’t say anything. He didn’t answer when Dean called him or when Sam acknowledged him. He didn’t eat anything either and all he really did was sit on the couch in silence while everything else happened around him.

“Cas, what’s wrong?” Dean questioned for what seemed to be the hundredth time that day. “Can you please talk to me?”

“I have nothing to say, Dean.”

The hunter sighed and hung his head, patting Castiel on the shoulder before going to join Sam and Kevin. The fallen angel was feeling useless and he didn’t know if the Winchesters were going to want to keep him around now that he couldn’t do anything. He’d forgotten for a few seconds in the morning that he was actually human and that this was actually happening but realisation finally hit home and he felt awful. Truly, goddamn awful. He didn’t want to speak to anyone because if he did, they’d get bored and kick him out.

Sam went up to Castiel and placed a sandwich in front of him, managing a smile before saying, “from Dean. I know you’re going through a tough time but we’re here to help you out. You’re family, remember?”

Castiel gave Sam a small nod and stared at the sandwich, contemplating on whether or not he should eat it. His stomach growled and he gave in, taking a cautious bite before glancing up at Dean who was trying to hide a relieved smile. The look on Dean’s face made Cas’ heart jump a little but he just put it down to friendship.

It wasn’t _just_ friendship, no. It was raw human emotion.

*

“I’m going to bed, Sammy. I’ll see you in the morning, night.”

“Yeah, night.”

“Cas?” Dean looked at him and smiled softly, just wanting to make sure that he was going to be alright.

Castiel didn’t know about sleeping patterns and he didn’t really acknowledge when he was tired or hungry so he just followed Dean’s lead. He ate when the hunter did, took a break when he did and it looked like he would be sleeping when he did too. With that in mind, Castiel stood up and walked to his room, changing out of his flannel shirt and into Dean’s t-shirt (he didn’t own any clothes of his own but Dean promised to take him shopping soon) which smelt of leather and the Impala and faint traces of engine oil.

He lay awake, staring at the blank ceiling, thoughts of Dean and Heaven racing through his head. He tossed and turned before giving up and sighing, grabbing his pillow once more and taking it over to the room he had been frequenting often.

He didn’t knock on the door this time; he just walked in and was greeted by Dean who beamed at him. Castiel didn’t need to ask or anything, he just crawled into the hunter’s bed and made himself comfortable while Dean just held him as close to him as he could, feeling, for the first time in years, content.

*

Castiel slept with Dean every night and the hunter liked it, it felt normal to him. It felt _right_. He made sure that Castiel didn’t have any nightmares but if he did, he would comfort him and kiss him and tell him that it wasn’t happening and that this was real. _He was real._

And Castiel finally figured out that he wasn’t useless. He realised that Dean needed him just like he needed the hunter and although he missed his wings and his power; this set up suited him just fine too. 

**Author's Note:**

> I started this fic and then I just couldn't stop and it would not end and I went off a little as you can see but whatever. I've been reassured that it's fine so. x


End file.
